Sacrificial Rites
by Tweeter
Summary: COMPLETE: A murderous cult has kidnapped one of the agents.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer:_ Unfortunately for me, the characters from the show belong to someone else. No copyright infringement is intended.

_A/N:_ Tweeter's writing again... run away, Tony, run away! Blessings upon my lovely beta Rinne, who's being inundated by the fruits of my manic writing.

**Sacrificial Rites – Chapter One**

The atmosphere in the squad room was tense. Special Agent Gibbs was in a particularly foul mood, his senior field agent's absence from his desk darkening the mood considerably. Special Agent McGee and Officer David had been sent to find the AWOL agent when Special Agent DiNozzo did not answer the repeated calls made to his cell phone and land line. The two young people were happy to escape the path of Hurricane Gibbs, hoping to find their teammate and praying he had a good reason not to have called in to the office.

Getting no response when they knocked on Tony's door, McGee started to go to the building manager's office for a key. He was called back by Ziva, who had picked the lock on the apartment door. Her expression entirely unrepentant, Ziva stepped into the darkened apartment, looking around curiously. A quick search of the place did not reveal a hung over DiNozzo, draped over the toilet, or any form of the missing man.

McGee pulled out his cell phone and dialed Gibbs. "Boss, Tony's not here. His car isn't in his parking space and it looks like he hasn't been here for at least a day, there are five messages on his answering machine."

"Is there any sign of a struggle?" came the sharp reply.

"No, Boss, no sign of anything. Tony's a lot neater than I expected; if he came home to change before he went out on a date he didn't leave any work clothes or towels lying around."

"You and David ask around, see if any of the neighbors saw him recently. Check his messages, see if there's any clue of what his plans were. I'll have a BOLO put out on his car. Get back here as soon as you can, McGee." Gibbs broke the call without another word.

"Yes, Boss," McGee said to the dial tone.

* * *

Four hours later they received a call that Tony's car had been found abandoned in an alley in Georgetown, near a strip of trendy clubs. There was no sign of a struggle within the confines of the vehicle; the keys were on the floor, under the driver's seat. Gibbs had the Mustang towed back to headquarters to be examined for fingerprints and other forensic evidence. He and his two remaining subordinates canvassed the nearby clubs, hoping to get a clue about Tony's movements before he disappeared.

It was too early in the day for any of the evening staff to be on duty. The three NCIS agents were frustrated with the lack of information and evidence, knowing that each hour that passed lowered the chances of finding the missing man alive, if at all. They went back to headquarters to try to follow up other leads before they could return and question the people working evenings at the various establishments.

Abby worked on checking Tony's car for fingerprints and any other evidence while McGee and Ziva made calls to local hospitals, checking for any John Does that had been admitted. They did the same check with the state and local police.

After a few frustrating, fruitless hours Gibbs, Ziva and McGee started to return to the possible crime scene. As they waited for the elevator they met FBI Agent Tobias Fornell coming off.

"Gibbs," the agent looked grim, "I need to talk to you."

"Not now, Fornell, one of my agents is missing." Gibbs started to push past the agent but the smaller man grabbed his arm.

"It's about DiNozzo."

Gibbs stopped in his tracks. Fornell had pronounced Tony's name correctly, which didn't bode well.

"You know something?"

"Let's go back to the squad room. I have some information to give you."

Gibbs led the way back to his desk. Fornell handed McGee a CD and told him to put the photos from it up on the plasma screen. The NCIS agents watched as five pictures appeared, all male, all of similar appearance.

"They could be brothers," said Ziva. "Is this another serial killing?"

Fornell started explaining. "The FBI has been investigating a cult that was operating in Wyoming. We don't know much about them, just that they're into some sort of demon worship. They'd been stealing livestock and killing them as sacrifices. It wasn't a major concern for us, until men started disappearing, then showing up dead."

"You think they graduated to human sacrifices?" Gibbs asked, his eyes never leaving the plasma screen.

"We do," confirmed Fornell. "We think they started with their human offerings in Wyoming, then moved on so they wouldn't attract attention. The victims were all similar in age, looks and lifestyle. They were last seen at a bar or party before they disappeared. These are just five that we know of; we think there could be a lot more victims out there. We've only recovered two bodies, so far."

"And you think Tony could have been grabbed by these people?" McGee asked.

"Yeah, we think so. DiNozzo fits the profile, he appears to have disappeared under similar circumstances, and," Fornell paused, "the cult's last victim disappeared in West Virginia."

"They're moving east." Gibbs looked at Fornell for confirmation, and got a nod in reply.

Ziva asked, "So you think Tony was just in the wrong place at the wrong time?"

"And happened to fit the bill, yes. They appear to make their sacrifices monthly. It's been 23 days since the last disappearance."

Gibbs asked, "How much do you know about this cult?"

"I'll tell you everything we know, Jethro, this is going to be a joint investigation and I won't hold anything back from you."

Gibbs nodded, "You better not."

"I won't. Understand that this is our case. You're going to be allowed to work with us because of your experience and because it's your guy, but you're too emotionally involved in this. We lead the investigation. Got that?"

Gibbs nodded. "You're right, this is personal. But you can't hold out on us, and you can't keep us away from any rescue."

Fornell nodded his agreement. "One thing you should know, Gibbs. This isn't a matter of the victims being put on some altar and stabbed. They were tortured first, probably over a period of days. I'll make sure your Medical Examiner gets the autopsy results from the victims we recovered, but our ME says they appeared to have been ritually cleansed, most likely in order to make them pure enough to be offered as a sacrifice."

Ziva cursed softly. "So Tony could be going through torture right now, if he's still alive?"

"Probably," said Fornell. "Do you know when he was seen last?"

"At least 20 hours ago," replied Gibbs.

"How do we know that Tony's been kidnapped by this cult?" asked McGee. "Maybe there's another explanation."

"We _don't_ know," Gibbs replied, "but if there is an explanation, it can't be good. DiNozzo would never stay out of touch."

Gibbs turned to Fornell. "Tell us what you know about this cult."

Fornell pulled a chair up and sat down, pointedly avoiding disturbing anything at the missing agent's desk.

"They're not your average devil worshipping cult. As a matter of fact, we're not sure who they worship, just that their leader is the embodiment of this demon. None of our experts in the occult has heard of the demon, and they can't find the name in any of their research. Basically, we think we're dealing with some delusional psychotic who's able to entice people into believing whatever he says and doing whatever he wants."

"Another Charles Manson?" asked McGee.

"Yeah, sort of," replied Fornell. "Only more prolific with the killing. They used to have a compound in Wyoming, in the middle of cattle country. The neighboring ranchers complained about the bonfires and loud music. When livestock started disappearing, some of the local cowboys went to the compound and found mutilated carcasses. Shortly after that the first victim disappeared from a local tavern. Another one disappeared a month later from a bar in a neighboring county. After that, the cult pulled up stakes and moved out. We traced a path going east. We assume the sacrifices were monthly, but we don't know that for sure, we don't have positive missing person reports for each month."

Ziva asked, "How long has this been going on?"

"Two years." Fornell looked embarrassed. "These are smart people. They know how to cover up their tracks. We haven't been able to get a single concrete piece of evidence linking them to any of the disappearances."

"Can you get the bodies over to our lab?" Gibbs asked.

"Our Medical Examiner is very good," protested Fornell.

Gibbs nodded. "I'm sure he is. I'd just like to have Ducky go over them as well."

Fornell sighed and said, "Okay, I'll get the bodies over here within the hour."

"Thanks, Tobias." Gibbs rose suddenly. "We've got to canvas the clubs, find out if anyone saw Tony last night."

Fornell stood as well. "I'll go with. We can spread out, you and I can team up."

Gibbs shook his head. "I think you should go with McGee, I'll team up with David."

"Boss?" asked McGee, nervously.

"Relax, McGee," said Fornell, "I won't bite. Too hard."

McGee looked over at Gibbs, his expression pleading. Ziva was staring at Fornell, dislike obvious in her expression. Sighing, Gibbs said, "Okay, Fornell, you're with me."

As he and Fornell left the room, the FBI agent looked over at McGee and mouthed, "wimp" to the younger agent, a cocky smile on his face.


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer:_ Unfortunately for me, the characters from the show belong to someone else. No copyright infringement is intended.

_A/N:_ Tweeter's writing again... run away, Tony, run away! Blessings upon my lovely beta Rinne, who's being inundated by the fruits of my manic writing.

**Sacrificial Rites – Chapter Two**

The two teams spent the evening at each of the bars in the area where Tony's car was found. It was tiring, frustrating work with disappointing results. Gibbs and Fornell were in a newer club, attempting to question the bartender. The young man had to keep leaving them to serve customers as the place filled up. The loud music was making Gibbs' head pound and his temper got shorter and shorter.

Finally, he grabbed the arm of the bartender and pulled him into a corner.

"We need five uninterrupted minutes of your time. Now," he growled.

"Okay, okay." The young man signaled the other bartender, holding up his hands and flashing a ten. The other man nodded. The bartender led Gibbs and Fornell into a quiet area in back.

Gibbs pulled out a picture of Tony. "Was this man in here last night?"

The young man looked closely at the picture, his lips pursed. "Hmmm, I think, so." He nodded. "Yeah, he was here."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure. He was in here alone, chatting up a woman. They left together."

"Can you describe the woman?"

The young man paused to think. "She was short, blond hair, really pretty. She had a deep voice, sexy deep, not guy deep. She was wearing this low-cut black dress. Great build."

"Have you seen the woman before, do you know her name?"

The bartender shook his head. "Nope, she's a first-timer, like your guy in the picture. But I think she might have been with another guy, I saw him follow them out the door."

Fornell asked, "What did the other guy look like?"

"I can give you more than a description, I know the guy."

Gibbs felt his pulse race. "Can you give us a name?"

"Robbie Johanssen. He's been coming around for a few months. He likes to talk, lonely SOB. He hasn't been hanging out at the bar lately, though. I think he's made some new friends."

"Have you seen any of these friends?"

The bartender shook his head. "No, I don't think they're the 'clubbing' type, not that Robbie was either. I was kind of surprised to see him in here, and he didn't come by to say hello."

"Did he tell you anything about these other people?"

"Just that they were really nice, and they took an interest in him. I think he makes good money, computers or something like that, but he's not really good with people. I'm glad he found some friends, though, he seems like a nice guy." The young man looked at his watch. "Look, I gotta go back or I'll lose my job. If you need anything else, why don't you call me at home during the day."

Gibbs smiled. "Thanks. We appreciate your help. We might be in touch later."

The young man grinned. "Sure thing, anything for the Feds." He gave them a thumbs up as he walked back to the bar.

Both agents took a deep breath and let it out loudly as they left the smoky bar and walked into the cool night air.

"Figures we'd get a break at the last place we check out," grumbled Fornell.

"As long as we get a break. Come on, let's go check out Robbie Johanssen."

* * *

Gibbs left Fornell to pull up any information on Robbie Johanssen and headed downstairs to see how his team was doing. He entered Autopsy to find Ducky poring over some files, not even noticing the agent's arrival. 

"What do you have for me, Ducky?" asked Gibbs.

The elder man jumped slightly. "Jethro, you startled me," he exclaimed.

"I'm sorry. Can you tell me anything about the way these men died?"

"Most horribly, I'm afraid," sighed the ME, walking over to one of the bodies. "It appears that this unfortunate young man remained alive for approximately 7 days until his heart was removed from his body. Jethro, I believe that a doctor was involved in his torture."

"Why do say that?"

Ducky walked pointed to the eyes of the victim. "The stitches used to close the eyelids are precise and delicate. It takes a steady and sure hand to make the stitches so even. The underlying eyes show no sign of the needle scratching them, just some abrasions from the silk thread itself."

Walking around the table, he continued talking, "It appears that the eyes were stitched closed very early on in his captivity. There was an opportunity to develop some scabs on them before the victim died. His stomach, bowels and bladder appear to have been emptied completely early on, as well."

"The cleansing," Gibbs said, grimly.

"Yes," agreed Ducky. " He was completely scrubbed by some sort of rough brush, removing a layer or two of skin. Most painful, I'm sure. There's something else. The young man's ears were stuffed with some material, and sealed with an unknown substance. I've sent samples down to Abby for analysis."

"They cleansed their victims and rendered them deaf and blind," mused Gibbs.

"Yes, but for what purpose?"

"To instill greater fear in the victim," replied Gibbs. "To create terror, but I can't think of any reason other than for the sick enjoyment of the cult members."

"Isn't that reason enough for a psychotic person?"

Gibbs was silent, staring at the body of the young man.

"You're thinking about Anthony going through the same thing," Ducky stated softly.

"I have to find him, before they break him."

Ducky barely heard the agent's words. Sighing, he said, "Do you have any clues as to the identity of the kidnappers, other than the nebulous description of 'cult members'?"

"We have a possible lead, a name. Fornell's pulling up information on him, he'll bring him in for questioning."

"Will he bring him here?" asked Ducky.

"Yes, I'll be interrogating him."

Ducky looked concerned. "Is that wise, Jethro? You're very personally involved in this case, and if you even think this man has an idea of Anthony's whereabouts, will you be able to extract the information from him without compromising the case?"

Gibbs looked at Ducky, his expression cold. "If he has information on where Tony's being held, I'll get it from him. My main objective is to get Tony back safely. What happens after doesn't matter."

"I think Special Agent Fornell would believe otherwise," Ducky replied seriously.

"I'm going to check with Abby." Gibbs turned abruptly and strode out of the room. The Medical Examiner looked after his friend sadly, knowing that this case could possibly break the other man if young Anthony didn't make it through this ordeal alive. He turned back to his task, searching for more clues to help solve the case.

* * *

The lab was uncharacteristically quiet when Gibbs walked through the sliding doors. Abby was looking through a microscope, mumbling to herself. 

"Abby?" Gibbs' voice was concerned. "You okay?"

"No, Gibbs," replied the lab technician, "I'm not. Tony's missing and I can't find a single thing that would help us figure out where he is." Her voice was quavering, her eyes brimming with tears.

Gibbs pulled the young woman into a hug. "We'll find him, Abs. We'll bring him home safely."

Abby held on tightly. "Why do things always have to happen to Tony?" she mumbled into his shoulder. "He's such a sweet guy, why is he the one to get the plague or kidnapped by crazy waitresses and cults?"

"I don't know, Abs." Gibbs placed a soft kiss on the silky black hair. "I just don't know."

"We need to wrap him up in bubble wrap, or something," the young woman declared petulantly, "and never let him out of the office."

"You can tell him your plan when we get him back here. He might just like that."

McGee entered the lab, looking for Gibbs.

"Boss, Fornell's back with Johanssen. He's taking him to interrogation."

"I'll be right up." Gibbs squeezed Abby harder, then gave her another kiss and followed McGee out of the lab.


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer:_ Unfortunately for me, the characters from the show belong to someone else. No copyright infringement is intended.

_A/N:_ Tweeter's writing again... run away, Tony, run away! Blessings upon my lovely beta Rinne, who's being inundated by the fruits of my manic writing.

**Sacrificial Rites – Chapter Three**

Robert Johanssen was a quiet, unassuming man in his forties. He was medium height and build, with reddish hair and a receding hairline. He sat in the interrogation room, fidgeting nervously, while Gibbs and Fornell observed him from the other room.

"Looks harmless," Fornell commented.

Gibbs grunted.

"You're not going to interrogate him, are you?"

Gibbs didn't say anything, but continued staring at the man in the other room.

"You'll kill him, Jethro, you know you will," warned the other agent. "If there's any chance he's involved in DiNozzo's disappearance you won't be able to hold yourself back."

"You scare him too much he'll clam up and you'll never find DiNozzo in time." Fornell's voice was taking on an edge of frustration. "Let me talk to him, Jethro. If he knows where your guy is, I'll get the information from him."

"Okay."

"Come on, Gibbs, will you…what?"

Gibbs turned to his friend. "I said, 'okay'. You interrogate him. Help me find Tony."

The two men locked eyes for a moment, then Fornell nodded and left the room.

* * *

Johanssen looked up nervously as the door opened and the agent who brought him in entered the room. Taking a seat across the table, Fornell folded his hands and leaned on the table. He looked steadily into Johanssen's eyes, making the other man squirm as the minutes passed without a word being spoken. 

Finally, unable to take the silence any longer, the suspect spoke up. "Why am I here? What did I do?"

Fornell cocked his head and looked thoughtfully at the other man. "We believe you have information on the whereabouts of a missing Federal Agent."

Johanssen looked surprised. "What? I don't know what you're talking about." He shifted nervously in his seat.

"Where were you last night, Mr Johanssen?"

The suspect shrugged. "I went out to a bar, had a drink, then went home."

"Did you go home alone?"

"Yeah, I did."

"We heard you followed a couple out of the bar, Mr. Johanssen. We have a witness to that fact," Fornell said calmly.

Perspiration began to dot the other man's forehead. "Well, I might have met up with some friends, but I didn't stay out long."

"Do you know Robert Cresswell?"

Johanssen's face became guarded. "Who?"

"Robert Cresswell," Fornell replied. "He's from Wyoming. He's a suspect in a number of murders. Ritual sacrifices."

Johanssen swallowed nervously. "Sacrifices?"

"Yeah, the guy thinks he's the physical embodiment of some strange demon. He has a bunch of followers, mindless people who do what he tells them to do." Fornell leaned back in his chair, his hands crossed against his stomach. "You know him?"

Johanssen shook his head.

"No?" Fornell arched an eyebrow. "Cresswell and his minions aren't your new friends? You're not one of his mindless followers?"

The suspect pulled at his collar. "It's kind of hot in here, can I get some water?"

"Sure," agreed Fornell, "I'll have them bring some water in. In the meantime, let's look at some pictures."

He opened up a file and pulled out the autopsy pictures of the victim in Ducky's lab, spreading them out on the table in front of Johanssen. The other man's face paled as he looked at the gruesome pictures.

"This is one of their victims, Johanssen," said Fornell in a conversational tone. "They sewed his eyelids shut and then tortured him for days, before they finally cut his heart out. The coroner said that the victim was still alive when they cut his heart out. I don't know how, but there's ways of telling something like that, post mortem."

Johanssen seemed to have trouble breathing, perspiration was now pouring off his face. "I really need some water, I think I'm going to be sick."

"All right, all right," said Fornell, rising. "I'll be right back." He left the photos on the table and walked out of the room.

Gibbs met him in the corridor. "He knows something."

"Yeah," agreed Fornell, "and he's scared to death."

McGee approached the two men. "Johanssen's lawyer's here. He's insisting on getting his client out of here. He says we haven't charged him with anything, so we have no right to hold him."

"Like hell we're letting him go," Gibbs growled.

"Jethro," Fornell said, thoughtfully, "we really don't have any proof that he followed Tony and that woman out of the bar, but we have enough probable cause to get a wiretap put on his phone. I can have a team installed in less than an hour."

Gibbs looked at him for a moment, then nodded.

* * *

A few hours later, Abby was talking to McGee and Ziva when Agent Fornell came into the squad room. Gibbs stood up. "Got something?" 

"It didn't take long," Fornell said. "Johanssen got a call." He pulled out a tape recorder.

"It's bad," he warned, turning on the machine.

There was brief silence then Johanssen's voice.

_Hello?_

_Robert._

_Master, I've been waiting for you to call._

_What did you tell the FBI?_

_Nothing, Master, I swear._

_Nothing?_

They could hear the sound of chanting in the background. Abby moved closer to McGee, who put his arms around her for comfort.

_They know about the family, Master. They know your name._

_Yes, I know that. They've been hounding us for years. _

_Master, your sacrifice...he's a Federal Agent._

The Master was briefly silent as the chanting grew louder.

_That's...unfortunate._

The chanting rose in volume when suddenly there was a scream. Abby grabbed McGee's arm as everyone jumped at the sound. Even though the screams were hoarse, desperate, inarticulate sounds, they recognized the voice.

_We'll finish soon, and then we'll leave._

_I'm coming with you, right, Master?_

_Of course, my son, you've been a good child. You'll come with us, someone will come get you when we're ready to move on._

_Thank you, Master._

The call ended abruptly. Nobody moved for a few minutes. The only sound in the room was Abby's sobbing as she clung to McGee. The agent looked as if he was about to cry as well.

Gibbs expression was hard. "Were you able to trace the call?" he asked Fornell.

Fornell shook his head. "It came from a no-name cell phone. No way to trace it."

"Damn it." Gibbs hit his desk in frustration. "We bring Johanssen back in here. _I'll_ interrogate him."

"Jethro," interrupted Fornell, "he might not know where they are. They're going to pick him up."

"They might not want him followed by the FBI, or us," replied Gibbs. "We need to talk to him again."

"My people are on their way to his place right now.." Fornell smiled at Gibbs. "I figured you'd want another crack at him. Hell, after hearing that, _I_ want another crack at him."

McGee's phone rang; he answered it and listened for a minute. "Boss, Johanssen has a house out in the country, about 30 minutes away from here," he said excitedly, hanging up the phone.

Fornell said, "I'll call a team up; give us the location and we'll rendezvous with you up there."

Gibbs nodded. "Ziva, go get Rucker's team, we're going to check out this place. McGee, give the location to Fornell."

"Right, Boss."


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer:_ Unfortunately for me, the characters from the show belong to someone else. No copyright infringement is intended.

_A/N:_ Tweeter's writing again... run away, Tony, run away! Blessings upon my lovely beta Rinne, who's being inundated by the fruits of my manic writing.

**Sacrificial Rites – Chapter Four**

Two hours later, Johanssen's ramshackle house was surrounded by FBI and NCIS agents. The house appeared to be occupied, but they couldn't see inside the windows. There were a few cars and a van parked off the road, indicating a number of people were probably inside. Two men were standing outside the front entrance, smoking cigarettes and talking. Voices and laughter drifted outside, as the agents carefully closed in.

"Fornell, you in position?" Gibbs whispered into his comlink.

Fornell's voice crackled through his earpiece, "We're in position at the back entrance. Ready to go in on your mark."

"We're going to take out the two guys in front, then I'll give you the signal."

"Roger that."

Gibbs motioned Ziva to follow behind him as he crept up to the two men who were oblivious to their approach. Swiftly, the two agents surprised the men and had them on the ground, unconscious before they could react. Signaling the rest of his team to follow, Gibbs led Ziva and McGee onto the front porch. They positioned themselves on either side of the front door, guns drawn.

"Going in on the count of three," whispered Gibbs into his comlink. "One… two…three…" Gibbs kicked the door in and rushed in, followed closely by Ziva and McGee.

"NCIS!" he yelled, hearing the sounds of the FBI breaking in through the rear entrance. "Everybody down on the ground."

There were several men and women in the room, frozen in various positions, their eyes wide with shock. They started rushing around, the women screaming in fear.

"I SAID, ON THE GROUND!" yelled Gibbs, grabbing a man and throwing him down to the floor. The occupants of the room hastened to comply, dropping down to the floor, the women crying. Agents rushed in, filling the room and securing the prisoners.

Gibbs looked around anxiously for sign of his missing agent. "Ziva, McGee, check that room," he yelled, indicating a closed door. The two agents stood on either side of the door, kicking it in and then entering swiftly.

"Boss, we found him," McGee yelled.

Gibbs rushed over and entered the room.

"My God," murmured McGee.

Tony was lying on a cot, wearing a thin white robe. His hands were tied to the top rail of the bed, his feet secured to the bottom rail at the foot. He was pale, the white thread appeared vivid against his closed eyelids. His brow was furrowed, his lips moving slightly as he dozed fitfully, haunted in his sleep by the nightmare that was his reality.Faint lines of blood had seeped through the flimsy fabric of the robe, giving mute testimony to the abuse the younger man had suffered.

Gibbs moved swiftly to the cot and knelt down. He carefully placed a hand on Tony's shoulder. The agent jerked, and started struggling.

"No, please, no more." His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

"Tony, it's okay," Gibbs tried to comfort the young man, but Tony couldn't hear him, reacting to the touch in fear and panic. Ziva and McGee worked quickly to release the ropes.

"DiNozzo," Gibbs yelled, grasping Tony's shoulders, hoping he could get through, but with no effect.

Finally, in desperation, Gibbs gently slapped the agent on the back of the head. Tony went still, then in a trembling voice, whispered, "Boss?"

Gibbs stroked the young man's hair and took one of his hands, holding it up to his cheek and nodding.

Tony drew in a deep, shuddering breath and began to shiver. Gibbs pulled him into a hug, holding the trembling body close, running a comforting hand along his back, mindful of the cuts and welts. "It's okay," he whispered, even though he knew Tony couldn't hear him. He tightened his hold as a muffled sob rose softly from the younger man, Tony responding by clutching Gibbs' jacket tightly. "I've got you, Tony. You're safe now," he murmured repeatedly. Ziva and McGee stood off to the side, feeling helpless in their inability to offer their teammate comfort.

Gibbs drew back as the EMT's entered the room. Gently pulling Tony off the cot, he helped lay him on the gurney. He kept hold of the young man's hand as blankets were placed over his shivering body and straps were secured. Gibbs walked alongside as the EMT's wheeled Tony to the ambulance. Once inside the vehicle, he continued to hold his hand as they inserted an IV and placed an oxygen mask over Tony's face.

Gibbs never broke contact, even in the ER, until they had removed the material from Tony's ears and the agent could hear what was going on around him. Even then, Gibbs refused to leave the room, speaking softly and comfortingly, as they treated the young man.

The doctors chose to sedate DiNozzo when it was time to remove the stitches. They didn't want him struggling and injuring himself unintentionally. The procedure to remove the stitches was a delicate one, and any sudden movement could cause the doctor to slip and damage the young man's eyes. Gibbs stayed with him until he fell asleep.

* * *

He couldn't move; something or someone was holding him down. No, definitely something - straps or ropes. He couldn't move his head either. There were blocks of wood on either side, with straps across his forehead and chin, immobilizing him. A wave of panic washed over him as he realized how vulnerable he was. 

There were people around him, chanting. It would have been comforting if he weren't trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey. He caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. The face of a man hovered into view. He tried to say something, to ask what the hell was going on, but his tongue seemed thick and heavy. A flash of light was reflected off something in the man's hand, which was coming perilously close to Tony's face. It was a needle, long and sharp and coming right at him. The man pulled his eyelid open with one hand as the needle descended.

Tony tried to beg, plead, but the only sound coming out of his mouth were pitiful whimpers. He struggled desperately, his whimpers growing into screams. The bonds holding him down were like steel. Not straps, hands... hands were holding him down. He had to fight them, break free. The needle loomed closer and closer, light reflecting off the sharp tip.

Fighting desperately, he was vaguely aware of a voice calling him. Slowing his struggles, he realized the hands weren't holding him down, they were holding him. Arms were wrapped around him, holding him close to a sturdy body. The voice was calling him, familiar, calming...Gibbs. Gibbs was there, talking to him, holding him.

Tony stopped struggling, the fear gone, the man with the needle...gone. He was safe. With a soft sigh, he drifted back to sleep, his head resting on Gibbs' chest as the senior agent gently stroked his back.


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer:_ Unfortunately for me, the characters from the show belong to someone else. No copyright infringement is intended.

_A/N:_ Tweeter's writing again... run away, Tony, run away! Blessings upon my lovely beta Rinne, who's being inundated by the fruits of my manic writing.

**Sacrificial Rites – Chapter Five**

Tony lay in the hospital bed, looking fragile and vulnerable. His eyes were bandaged, mostly for protection from light and particulates floating in the air. The corneas had been scratched from the thread used to sew his eyelids shut. There was a very real threat that the expressive green eyes were permanently damaged, but there was hope that they were not. The physical damage imposed on the young agent was hidden by bandages and blankets. The emotional toll was evident by the tense set of the shoulders, the startled jerks when an item was dropped, the hoarse voice on the verge of breaking whenever the patient spoke. A member of their team was always at his side, providing a familiar voice in the darkness, a comforting hand for him to cling to, a gentle hand brushing through his hair.

Gibbs sat in a chair, silently observing the pair on the bed. Abby Sciuto was lying next to Tony, her body pressed up against his, absentmindedly running her fingers through his hair while chattering on about some article she had read. Gibbs had been spending most of his free time at the hospital, even when it wasn't his turn to keep company, unable to stay away from the young man's side. Deep inside, the older agent felt he had failed somehow, failed to protect his agent from the sick people who put him through so much physical and emotional horror.

Logically, he knew there was nothing anyone could have done. Fate had stepped in and made Tony fit the profile of the victims the cult was picking as sacrifices to their demonic ideologies. Gibbs remembered the worry he had felt when Tony first went missing, the fear of what was happening to the young man growing stronger as he found out more information about the kidnappers.

Gibbs' sharp blue eyes studied the figure of the young man on the bed, relieved to see that he was relaxed, apparently dozing, surrounded by the comforting warmth of the young woman cuddling next to him. Tony's skin was losing the raw, red color and was no longer painful to the touch. He thought about the past few days, the interrogation sessions spent with members of the cult, including the leader, Robert Cresswell.

Cresswell was an enigmatic figure, arrogant and disdainful of the agents questioning him. Gibbs wanted to reach across the table and throttle the man, to wipe the smug expression of his face, but he maintained his temper. Despite his contempt for the law, Cresswell was smart enough not to say anything incriminating. He simply sat there and smiled at the senior agent, occasionally uttering obscure, irrelevant quotations. Finally, Gibbs had had enough. They had the man on kidnapping charges. Tony had been able to get a look at the faces of most of his captors, before they began preparing him for the sacrifice. The description of the man he believed to be the leader had matched Cresswell. It was only a matter of formality for the young man to make an official positive identification from a photo. Gibbs hoped that Tony's eyes would be unscathed, allowing him to not only make the ID, but to continue with his life.

Gibbs was pulled from his reverie by the sound of Abby's voice.

"Sure, Tony," she said, reaching over to the bedside tray to grab a cup of water. She took Tony's hand and gently placed the cup in it, helping him guide it to his mouth. Tony murmured something softly.

"Bossman's sitting right over there, lost in thought. He's all broody. Either that, or he's sleeping with his eyes open."

"I am _not_ brooding," protested Gibbs.

Tony turned his head in the direction of Gibbs' voice.

"Shouldn't you get some rest, Boss?" he said softly. "You've been here a lot. You don't have to sit there all the time."

"I know, DiNozzo," replied Gibbs. "I can think just as easily here as I can at the office or at home."

Abby took the cup of water from Tony's hand and put it back on the tray. "Gibbs has been here every day."

"And night," added Tony.

"How do you know?" Gibbs asked in surprise.

"I can tell," Tony shrugged. "And I remember you being here when I had nightmares."

"I didn't think you'd remember, you didn't seem to wake up completely."

"I remember. I don't know if I remember your voice, but I remember feeling safe, and knowing you were there." Tony sighed and reached up to touch the bandages covering his eyes. "I want these off."

Abby kissed the top of his head. "Tomorrow, Tony," she said consolingly. "It's getting late and tomorrow is almost here."

"And then I can go home."

"After you've seen the psychiatrist, get a final clearance and set up a schedule to see him," agreed Gibbs.

"Do I have to?"

"Yes," Gibbs and Abby said firmly.

Tony sighed. "Okay Mom, Dad." Abby smacked him lightly on the arm. "I am in no way old enough to be your mother, Anthony DiNozzo!" she scolded. "Now Gibbs…"

"I'm not old enough to be his mother, either," argued Gibbs. He was pleased to see a ghost of a smile on the young agent's face.

"Older brother?" asked Tony.

Gibbs thought about it. "You do remind me of what a bratty little brother would be like, if I had one."

"Thanks, Boss."

"Don't mention it, DiNozzo."

* * *

The next morning Gibbs was back at the hospital, standing anxiously by the window, watching as the doctor began removing the bandages from Tony's eyes. Dr. Greenway began unwinding the gauze bandage from around the young man's head, revealing two heavy pads taped over his eyes. 

"Could you please close the curtains," the doctor said to Gibbs, who quickly complied. "Okay Tony, I'm going to remove the pads, but I don't want you to open your eyes right away. We need to clean the ointment from your eyelids."

"Okay," whispered Tony.

The doctor carefully pulled the tape off and slowly removed the pads. He placed them in a metal bowl, reaching for the wet washcloth the nurse held. Gently, he wiped Tony's eyes, drying them with a clean towel.

"Tony, I want you to open your eyes, slowly. Don't worry if your vision is blurry at first; they've been closed for a while and some of the ointment may be coating the surface of your eyes. Just keep blinking to clear them."

Tony carefully opened his eyes, blinking slowly a few times, then more quickly.

"Do you see anything?" asked the doctor.

Tony let out a shaky breath, a relieved smile slowly developing. "Yes," he said softly. "Everything's blurry, but I can see you, and Nurse Rita," he turned toward the window, "and my boss." He smiled at Gibbs. "Hey, Boss, good to see you."

"Good to be seen, DiNozzo."

"Excellent," Dr. Greenway exclaimed. "Your eyes will probably be sensitive for awhile. I want you to wear special sunglasses when you're outside in the bright sunlight. Regular sunglasses should be okay for when you're inside, under fluorescent lighting. You'll need to limit your reading, computer work and television watching for a few weeks, to avoid eyestrain."

"How long before I can go back to work?" asked Tony, anxiously.

"If your job requires computer work or heavy reading, you'll need at least a month off, possibly six weeks."

"Six weeks?" Tony's dismay was evident.

"If the doctor says six weeks, DiNozzo," Gibbs cut in, "you'll be out for six weeks. I want you back at the office at full strength, no screwing around."

Tony looked at his boss anxiously. "You won't replace me, will you?"

"What did I tell you before, DiNozzo?"

"I'm irreplaceable?"

Gibbs growled. "Don't make me say it again. You'll get a swelled head."

"Yes, Boss. When can I get out of here, Doctor?"

Dr. Greenway looked over at Gibbs, then back at Tony. "If Dr. Hoffman says you're fit to leave, you can be released at any time."

"Yesss," Tony cheered, softly. "Dr. Hoffman said I could go home."

"But you're going to be staying with me for awhile," Gibbs reminded him.

"You sure about that?"

"Don't start."

"What am I going to do when I'm there? You have no TV, no radio or stereo…"

Gibbs huffed. "You can't watch TV anyway, and I have a perfectly good radio."

"AM only!" whined Tony. "And I can _listen_ to the TV."

"We'll manage," Gibbs cut him short.

Tony pouted for a minute, but Gibbs could see the smile threatening to break out. "Okay. I suppose I could watch you work on the boat. It'll help me go to sleep."

"You could always help with the boat, DiNozzo, it'll help you work off some of that hospital food."

Tony looked down in alarm. "Huh?"

Gibbs laughed. "You'll stay with me, I'll drop you off for your weekly appointments with Dr. Hoffman."

"How long do I have to see him?" grumbled Tony.

"As long as it takes for you to stop having nightmares and stop jumping at every little sound. You've got things to work out, DiNozzo. They get worked out _before_ you go back to work. You got that?"

"Yes, Boss."

Later that day, Tony was surprised and pleased to find that Gibbs had set up a small, but powerful CD system and television/DVD combo in the living room.

Tony settled himself on the sofa, closing his eyes to the comforting sounds of his favorite jazz CD. He still had irrational moments of panic and fear, but he was working on them with Dr. Hoffman. He had a way to go before he could put the events of the past few weeks behind him, but he knew he had the support of his teammates, his friends.

It wouldn't be long before Anthony DiNozzo was back on the job, irritating Ziva, harassing McGee and exasperating his boss. Well, at least six weeks.

The End.

_**Author's final notes:**_ I want to state for the record that the idea for sewing eyelids closed did not come from my twisted little brain. It came from a program I saw years ago, _Millennium_, I think, where victims had their eyes and mouths sewn shut and were buried alive. I can't remember the plot or the outcome, and am unclear on the details, but obviously that image stuck in my head. Very creepy.


End file.
